Because I Am Beautiful

Because I am Beautiful
    As I sat in class and listened to the instructions of the assignment, it took me back down memory lane. I reflected to a time in life when, “Let’s just call her ugly” was the thought of the day. Being seen as an (only child) average eight year old was the way I was perceived, however, I was anything but that. My mother (a single parent) and I lived in a one bedroom apartment (she of course slept in the bedroom) where I slept in the living. I had become accustom to a life style of oneness. You see my mother worked long hours, and back in those days many kids where left unattended.

    I can remember the scene as if it were yesterday. It was early evening during the summer months; it was a beautiful day. The trees were in full bloom, the sound of laughter filled the neighborhood and I was not allowed to play outside, nor was anyone allowed in. I found myself being entertained by my own thoughts and Alvin and the chipmunks album as I so often did; then I looked in the mirror and there she was. What are you doing in mother’s bedroom with your ugly self? Mother’s bedroom was full of nice things; she had all kind of perfumes, lotions and bath oils located on her dresser. I turned and just looked at her, shocked at the appearance of this nappy headed ugly child taking to me. She was frail with big hands, big feet and black. I stared at her in disbelief; how could you be so ugly I wondered. Look at you! The voice said, you have no friends; can never go outside to play with the others, besides they would not want to play with anyone that is as ugly and nappy headed and black as the likes of you. Na na na boo boo, no one will ever play with you.

    Well I thought—who do you think you are?   I stared at this funny looking child, looking back at me; she made me mad as hell. The dresser mirror seemed to be the only object in the room. The bedroom seemed to grow dark and dreary, and then it happened! Before I knew it I had a bottle off...